Hadrian handed the necklace to him. Gaunt fell to his knees next to the lantern and studied the amulet’s face. “It is the same.”
“Well?” Hadrian asked.
“Okay,” Gaunt replied. “With this I’ll do it… but I’ll keep it afterward, right? It’s mine for good now, yes? I won’t do it otherwise.”
“I will let you keep it, but on one more condition. Modina keeps the crown.”
Gaunt glared at him.
“Tear up the contract you had with her. If you agree to let her remain empress, then you can keep it.”
Gaunt felt the medallion between his fingers. He rubbed it, his eyes shifting in thought. He looked back at the door to the vault and sighed. “Okay,” he said, and slipped the chain over his head, smiling.
“The agreement?”
Gaunt scowled, then pulled the parchment from his clothes and gave it to Hadrian, who tore it up, adding the scraps to the pile on the floor.
“How about you?” Hadrian asked Arista.
“Still a bit tired, but I won’t get any sleep now.”
Hadrian stood up and walked to the door. “Myron, you might want to start praying.”
The monk nodded.
“Degan?” Arista called. “Degan?”
Gaunt looked up from his new necklace with an annoyed expression.
“When you get across,” Arista told him, “look for the horn in the tomb. I don’t know where it will be. I don’t even know what it will look like, but it is there.”
“If you can’t find it,” Hadrian said, “look for a sword with writing on the blade. You can kill the Gilarabrywn with it. You just have to stab it. It doesn’t matter where. Just drive the word written on the blade into its body.”
“If something goes wrong, run back and I will try to protect you,” Arista said.
Hadrian handed Gaunt the lantern. “Good luck.”
Gaunt stood before them, clutching his new medallion and the light. His long cloak was discarded in tatters on the floor, his hat disheveled, his face sick. Hadrian and Royce slid the latches and drew back the bolts. The metal made a disturbing squeal; then the door came free. Hadrian raised his foot and kicked the door open. It swung back with a groan, a large hollow sound that suggested the vast volume of the chamber beyond.
Gaunt took a step, raised the lantern, and peered in. “I can’t see anything.”
“It’s there,” Royce whispered to him. The thief stood behind Gaunt. “Right in the middle of the room. It looks like it’s sleeping.”
“Go on, Degan,” Arista said. “Maybe you can sneak by.”
“Yeah-sneak,” he said, and stepped forward, leaving Arista and Royce standing side by side in the doorway with Hadrian looking over their shoulders.
“Stop breathing so hard,” Royce snapped. “Breathe through your mouth, at least.”
“Right,” he said, and took another step. “Is it moving?”
“No,” Royce told him.
Gaunt took three more steps. The lantern in his hand began to jingle a bit as his arm shook.
“Why doesn’t he just scream, ‘Come eat me!’?” Royce hissed in frustration.
Arista watched as the lantern bobbed. The light revealed nothing of the walls or ceiling and illuminated only one side of Gaunt as he appeared to walk into a void of nothingness.
“How big is this room?” she asked.
“Huge,” Royce told her.
She tried to remember the dream. She vaguely recalled the emperor on the floor of a large chamber with painted walls and a series of statues-statues that represented all the past emperors-a memorial hall.
“He seems to be doing pretty good,” Hadrian observed.
“He’s halfway to it,” Royce reported. “Walking real slow.”
“I think I can see it,” Arista said. Something ahead of Gaunt was finally illuminated by his light. It was big. “Is that it? Is that-Oh my god, that’s just its foot?”
“I said it was big,” Royce told her.
As Gaunt approached, his lantern revealed a mammoth creature. A clawed foot lay no more than ten feet away, yet its tail stretched too far into the darkness to see. Its two great leathery wings were folded at its sides as towering tents of skin stretched out on talon-endowed poles. Its huge head, with a long snout, raised ears, and fanged teeth, lay between its forefeet, making it seem as innocent as a sleeping dog-only it was not sleeping. Two eyes, each one larger than a wagon wheel, watched him, unblinking.
The moment it raised its head, Degan stopped moving. Even across the distance, they heard his labored, rapid breath.
“Don’t run,” Arista called, stepping forward into the room. “Tell it who you are. Tell it you are the heir. Order it to let you pass.”
The Gilarabrywn rose to its feet. As it did, its massive wings expanded. They sounded like distant thunder rolling and Arista felt a gust of air.
“Gaunt, tell it!”
“I–I-I am-I am Degan Ga-Gaunt, the Heir of Novron, and I-”
“Damn it!” Royce rushed forward.
Arista saw it too-the beast lifted its head and opened its mouth. Closing her eyes, she pushed out with her senses. There it was-the beast. In her mind’s eye, she could see its massive size, its overwhelming power, and it was pure magic. She could see it as such, hear its music, feel its vibration, and everything she sensed told her it was about to kill Degan.
“Run!” Hadrian shouted.
In that same instant, panic gripped her. The creature was not a force she could act upon; it was like smoke. She could not grasp, push, burn, or harm it. It was magic and acting upon it with magic would have no more effect than blowing at the wind or spitting in a lake.
She opened her eyes. “I can’t stop it!”
The beast arched its back to strike.
In one tremendous burst, Arista’s robe exploded with the brilliance of a star. Light filled the room, flooding every corner of the great vault. Gold and silver reflected the light, creating dazzling effects that blinded and bewildered. Even Arista could not see, but she heard the beast groan and sensed it recoil. The light went out as quickly as it had appeared, but still she could not see.
She heard footfalls running toward her. They brushed by and she was pulled through the doorway. Still blinking, her eyes still adjusting, she could barely make out Hadrian throwing back the bolts, sealing it out and them in. From the other side they heard a roar that shook the walls, then silence.
Royce and Gaunt lay on the floor panting. Hadrian collapsed near the door, and Arista found herself sliding down a wall to her knees. Tears filled her eyes.
It was over. Thranic had been right. No one was going to cross that room… ever.
CHAPTER 21
Hadrian raised the lantern and looked up at the collapse. Shattered rock and broken stone crushed into a solid wall blocked the corridor and obliterated the stair. He looked at Magnus at his side. “Well?”
The dwarf shook his head with a scowl. “If I had a month, perhaps two, I could tunnel it.”
“We have six, maybe seven, days’ worth of food and perhaps three days of water,” Hadrian told him. “And who knows how much air? I’m also guessing Wyatt and Elden won’t wait much beyond five days before setting sail home.”
“And don’t forget the Ghazel,” Magnus reminded him. “By now, how many do you think there might be? Five hundred? A thousand? Two thousand? How many more oberdaza have they brought up to deal with the princess? They will be watching the other end of this for some time, I think.”
Hadrian sighed. “It’s not looking good, is it?”
“No,” Magnus replied sadly. “I’m sorry.”
When they returned to the room, Arista was still sitting in the corner by herself. Since the attempt to cross the Vault of Days, she slept a lot and he wondered if she was looking for answers in her dreams. Mauvin lay on the floor, not bothering to use a blanket to cover the stone. He stared up at the ceiling blankly. Gaunt lay curled in the opposite corner from Arista, holding the amulet with both hands, his eyes closed.